


Call Out What We've Become

by AuroraNova



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, past Trip/T'Pol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 23:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15673857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraNova/pseuds/AuroraNova
Summary: Grief, Vulcan mating bonds, and irreconcilable differences. Malcolm is a friend during Trip's need.





	Call Out What We've Become

**Author's Note:**

> Note the first: Another zombie fic, by which I mean a long-abandoned story I've resurrected. The first half of this was supposed to be the start of a T/R fic, years ago. It retains one small, vaguely slashy paragraph, but otherwise, I've decided to turn it into a shorter friendship story. 
> 
> Note the second: Title comes from Vienna Teng's "Copenhagen (Let Me Go)," with which I have been obsessed since I rediscovered [cosmic_llin's gorgeous DS9 video](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123044).

Malcolm set down his book when the door chimed. “Come in.”

He was surprised to see Trip walk in, as the engineer had been holed up in his room for the better part of a week now, mourning the death of a daughter he’d only just learned existed. It was heart-wrenching for Malcolm to be so useless in the face of his friend’s pain.

As a rule Malcolm tried to avoid platitudes. He didn’t ask how Trip was doing, because of course the answer would be ‘hellish.’ Therefore he simply said, “Hello, Trip.”

“You have any plans for leave?”

“I’m meeting my sister in London for a long weekend. Why do you ask?”

“It’s… kinda a long story.”

The poor man looked terrible, though that was to be expected considering his grief. “You’re welcome to sit.”

Trip didn’t sit so much as collapse into the chair. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but how do you feel about goin’ to Vulcan?”

Malcolm was stunned into silence for too long. Finally he said, “I suppose it would satisfy the captain’s insistence that I remain off _Enterprise_ for two consecutive weeks.”

Trip actually cracked something resembling a smile at that. “You probably want to know why.”

“The question did occur to me.”

“That’s the long story.”

“I surmised as much.”

Trip stared at his feet before mumbling, “I slept with T’Pol. In the Expanse.”

Once upon a time, before the Xindi attack had sent their world into a tailspin, Malcolm had carried a bit of a torch for Trip. He was far too realistic to think anything would ever come of it, and anyway he’d long considered his interest a casualty of the Expanse, so learning the rumor was true didn’t sting the way it would have. Barely at all, in fact.

He was more perplexed as to how such a liaison had ever seemed like a good idea. Trip was impulsive enough, granted, but T’Pol? It was uncharacteristic in the extreme.

“It was only the one time. Bad idea. It was apparently on her checklist of things to learn about humanity.”

Malcolm winced. “Ouch.”

“Gets better. I’m not the first guy to regret sleepin’ with a coworker, but I’m pretty sure I’m the first to end up with a telepathic bond because of it.”

“A telepathic bond?” This was so unexpected Malcolm had to be sure he hadn’t misheard.

“A Vulcan matin’ bond, to be precise.”

That explained Trip’s immunity to the Orion women, then.

“She didn’t even know at first. Then she waited a good long while to tell me about it. Didn’t bother explainin’ that she was in my head until the Orions came aboard _a year later_. So I can’t even trust anythin’ I felt about her. And I was still tryin’ to process that when we… when we found little Elizabeth.”

“My God, Trip.” What a horrendous run of events. The last two years had not been kind to Trip Tucker.

“Yeah. Anyway, the bond is magnifyin’ everything for us. She’s pretty torn up too, not that she’ll admit it.”

Of course not. T’Pol was the only person on _Enterprise_ less likely than Malcolm himself to admit to emotional turmoil.

“We can’t keep goin’ on like this. My emotions are interferin’ with her whole identity as a Vulcan, an’ I need to be alone in my own head. I haven’t been able to get her out of my head, an’ I started to think maybe I loved her, even though it didn’t feel like love. And it makes sense now, so that’s good, I guess, but this is bad for both of us.”

“It does seem problematic,” said Malcolm when it was apparent that he was expected to say something.

“So we’re goin’ to Vulcan to have the bond broken. I’ve been advised that ‘it would be prudent to bring a reliable associate to accompany me.’ An’ I know it’s a hell of a lot to ask you to give up two weeks of your leave when I’ve never even apologized for treating you like crap in the Expanse, but here I am.”

It was a surprise that Trip would come to him for this. He was close to his family – had been before the Expanse anyway – and there was the captain as well. Though the Expanse had damaged that friendship, too, Malcolm realized. In any case, he couldn’t turn down Trip’s request. Not when his friend was so clearly beaten down and in need.

“When do we leave?”

Trip finally looked up. “Really? You don’t mind?”

“I don’t.”

“Thanks, Malcolm. It’ll be a little easier to handle with you around.” He paused, cleared his throat. “Also, I am sorry. I know I was an ass, I just…” he trailed off. “I don’t have any excuses, all I can say is that I was a mess.”

“I know. You’ve been forgiven for quite some time now.” Frankly, the Expanse had brought out the worst in all of them. Malcolm had his own behavior of which to be ashamed. “So, when do we leave?”

“Saturday. We’re headin’ to Vulcan on the _Khu Rana_. Thank you.”

Malcolm nodded his acknowledgment and made a mental note to stop by the quartermaster’s for a new pair of sunglasses.

* * *

Trip knew he was asking a hell of a lot of Malcolm, giving up so much of his home leave. Thing was, there was no way he wanted to involve any of his family members into this mess. They’d ask too many questions he didn’t want to answer, and he was only just finding his way back to keeping in touch with his family again. If Lizzie hadn’t been killed he’d have asked her, but she was dead and he couldn’t face asking his brother or his parents.

Jon was also out. Oh, he’d have agreed, but then he would try too hard to get back to the friendship they had before the Expanse, not to mention that telling him about sleeping with T’Pol and the bond would be far harder than telling Malcolm, somehow.

He was going to owe Malcolm big time.

* * *

It might have been Malcolm’s imagination that the Vulcans treated their human passengers with less disdain these days, but he didn’t think so. He wasn’t known for his optimism, in that regard or any other. He and Trip were shown to guest quarters with a bare minimum of condescension and even, from one of their hosts, something approaching respect. Perhaps humanity was finally proving its worth in Vulcan eyes.

It was a small double room with two single beds and a tiny, efficient lavatory. Nothing remarkable, but neither was it objectionable.

“Does anyone else know why we’re here?” he asked.

Trip had been notably quiet, burying himself in a padd which Malcolm doubted he was actually reading. “No. Apparently it’s the height of rudeness to be nosy, if you’re a Vulcan.”

They read – or in Trip’s case, pretended to read – for several more minutes before the engineer looked over his padd and said, “Thanks, Malcolm.”

He would still have time to for the long weekend with Madeline, and the journey gave him a handy excuse to avoid his mother’s requests for a visit while still obeying the captain’s order. _Sorry, Mum, I have to pop over to Vulcan, so I can’t possibly stay for a week. Perhaps lunch one day?_ A single meal was about as much of his parents as Malcolm could handle, and if his mother didn’t like that, well, it was too late now to undue decades of relationship damage, and she ought to have thought of it when he was a child.

So this excursion wasn’t a terrible sacrifice on his part. Besides, he was going to have plenty of time to catch up on his reading, both business and pleasure (which often overlapped anyway). All things considered, it wasn’t a dreadful way to spend two weeks.

“Any time,” he said.

Trip gave him a hint of a smile, and they went back to their respective reading.

* * *

Trip didn’t sleep well, which meant Malcolm didn’t sleep well as he was a very light sleeper and Trip made a racket tossing and turning. He set out to the mess hall hoping that breakfast would energize him. Trip claimed that he couldn’t possibly keep any food down at the moment, so Malcolm set out solo.

Breakfast consisted of six crepes, or at least six thin pancakes that looked like slightly grey crepes. Malcolm had seen two Vulcan crewmembers take a spread of some kind and was reaching for it when the mess hall attendant said, “I would not recommend the dah-skol. It is known to cause digestive distress in humans.”

“Thank you for the warning.” He turned his attention to some kind of cubed fruit. “Is this safe?”

“Marn is not known to cause adverse reactions when consumed by humans.”

The marn turned out to be some kind of melon and actually quite tasty; the crepes were exceedingly bland; and the tea was unlike any Malcolm had tried before but not unpleasant once he got used to the hint of pepper in the aftertaste.

He passed T’Pol in the hall just outside the mess. “Commander,” he greeted.

“Lieutenant.” She paused, checking to confirm that they were alone. “I have observed that your reactions to me suggest you hold me in lower esteem, presumably since Commander Tucker disclosed our… association.”

That was true, of course, but did she really expect otherwise? And must she call him out on it here of all places? “As the saying goes, Commander, I’m only human.”

She frowned ever so slightly. “I do not understand the relevance of that remark in this context.”

So much for getting off easy. “It means I’ve only heard Trip’s version of events, so it’s natural that I’m influenced by them.”

“Commander Tucker’s version of events clearly finds me at fault.”

It dawned on Malcolm that this was new information to her. “I am not the person you need to speak to about this.”

“Commander Tucker grows agitated when the topic is mentioned.”

“Of course he does. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t need to talk about it.”

It was a sad day, Malcolm thought, when he of all people was the one insisting a person needed to talk about their emotions.

“Perhaps he will be more amenable to the idea if you suggest it.”

Wonderful. Now he could add couples’ counseling to his resume. “I’ll see what I can do.”

* * *

Trip didn’t really want to talk with T’Pol about their night together. He could grieve their daughter with her, but not rehash their history. Right now he had enough hurt and he really just wanted T’Pol out of his head.

Malcolm had other ideas, which Trip resisted up to the point that the lieutenant pointed out, “Don’t you think it’s obvious that you need to have this discussion, if even I can see it?”

That kind of made sense. Plus, seeing how Trip was dragging Malcolm to Vulcan, he grudgingly admitted he should at least listen.

“If you two are going to have any kind of civil working relationship – provided that is the plan, of course – you really ought to at least know where each other is coming from.”

“I think that’s the plan. I’m stayin’ on _Enterprise,_ anyway. I’d rather talk when I have my head back to myself, though.”

Malcolm shook his head. “You mean when T’Pol is heading straight for intensive meditation and nobody exactly knows the side effects breaking the bond will have on a human?”

“Um, yes?”

Reluctantly conceding that Malcolm was right, Trip made his way across the hall to T’Pol’s guest quarters. She didn’t answer the door, raising Trip’s hopes that he might be able to delay this conversation. Those hopes were dashed when she rounded the corner.

“Commander,” she said.

“Oh. Hi. Uh, can I come in?”

She opened the door and gestured for him to enter. “You spoke with Lieutenant Reed.”

“Well, he did most of the talkin.’”

It was pretty clear that T’Pol had no idea where to begin. Finally she said, “It is obvious from Lieutenant Reed’s behavior that your version of events views me unfavorably.”

Malcolm’s behavior toward T’Pol had changed, then. That was interesting but not really the salient point here. “Of course it does! You seduced me then threw me out the airlock, so to speak, brought me home to meet your mom, married another man, an’ hid the fact that you’re in my head for as long as you possibly could. That’s a hell of a lot to look on unfavorably.”

“You are unhappy that we did not continue to engage in sexual intercourse?”

“I’m unhappy that I was just an experiment in human sexuality.”

She cocked her head slightly in the way that indicated she’d just made some kind of connection. “It was my understanding that human males welcome single sexual encounters with females they deem attractive.”

That… oh, hell. T’Pol had read some stereotype in the Vulcan database about human sex and ran with it, way too damn far. “Not always. An’ when we do, we usually like to know ahead of time that it’s a one-night stand.”

“Which you did not believe our encounter was,” she concluded.

“No. In our case, nobody – no human – would’ve expected it to be a one-night stand.”

“Is that why you reacted negatively to my marriage?”

“Yes.” Well, there was that bond again. Who knew how much it influenced him? Not Trip, which drove him nuts.

T’Pol considered this for a moment. “As for the bond, I did not speak of it immediately upon becoming aware because I suspected that it might disappear in the absence of further sexual activity.”

“Okay, but you still should’ve told me.”

“In hindsight it is obvious that I made the wrong decision.”

“Hindsight’s 20/20… never mind, it’s just an old adage,” he said when she looked at him with confusion.

She reached for his hand. “I wish for you to understand,” was all she said. After a moment Trip complied.

“Focus on me,” she instructed. That was what had gotten him into so much trouble in the first place, but Trip complied anyway. It wasn’t like he had much to lose now.

For a moment there was nothing, and then… then he understood. Sort of. He could feel that T’Pol did care for him, in a very alien way. It wasn’t love, it wasn’t anything that he could even put into words. The closest he could come was to say that she valued him, though that didn’t really encompass it.

She never wanted to hurt him, was in fact very regretful, even a bit ashamed. And she hadn’t told him about the bond earlier because, though she’d never admit it in a million years, she had been scared.

Well, Vulcans repressed their emotions, which did mean they had to have them in the first place.

One or both of them thought of little Elizabeth and T’Pol broke whatever connection they had. Not before Trip saw that her grief was a gaping black hole, and he could relate to that.

He brushed away a tear from his cheek. “Thank you.” It couldn’t have been easy for her to allow that, the most intimate thing Trip had ever experienced by far.

She nodded. “I cannot alter the consequences of my actions.”

Trip understood. T’Pol thought that she owed him the truth, and she really did.

“We can’t go back,” he said. “You think, maybe, we can move forward?” Not that he was entirely sure how yet, but T’Pol’s telepathic confession had been a start. It was hard to hold on to his anger after what she’d allowed him to see.

Besides, holding on to anger hadn’t worked out so well for Trip the last time he tried it.

“That would be my preference.”

“Mine too,” he said, and he meant it.

* * *

Trip flopped down on his bed with something like relief. “You were right.”

“Oh?” said Malcolm, biting back a more sardonic reply.

“T’Pol had it in her head that all human men are dyin’ for one-nighters with hot women.”

Cultural misunderstanding if Malcolm had ever seen it. “I’ve nothing against one-night stands, but I do find they work best if both parties agree on the nature of the arrangement.”

“Ya think?”

Malcolm didn’t reply. Trip sighed.

“She let me in her head.”

“I suppose that’s one way of avoiding further misunderstanding.” For his own part, Malcolm resolved never to have sex with an alien unless preceded by a good deal of conversation, and possibly not even then. Not that it looked to be a consideration, anyway; unlike a certain chief engineer, aliens weren’t exactly throwing themselves at Malcolm. It was probably for the best.

“And you know what? I think, eventually, we’re gonna be okay. She’s sorry, I’m sorry, it was all a…”

Malcolm wasn’t above cursing when the situation warranted. “Clusterfuck?” he suggested.

Trip snorted. “Yeah, sure. But I can’t exactly hold the failure to communicate against her when I did the same thing, you know? I made my own assumption about what she wanted.”

That much was true, though Malcolm considered withholding information about a mating bond to be a sin at least two full orders of magnitude more grievous. If someone had been in _his_ mind… well, suffice to say that in comparison, Trip was handling the situation with remarkable grace.

Upon further reflection, Malcolm concluded sex with aliens was right out. He liked his privacy, thank you very much, and that wasn’t even getting into the security nightmare of an alien with dubious motives somehow gaining access to classified information.

There should be a regulation about this, but he could worry about how to make the suggestion without betraying Trip’s confidence at a later date.

“I’m glad you think you can find your way to a civil working relationship,” he said truthfully.

“Hard to hate someone when you’ve been in their head.”

“I’m content to take your word for that.”

“It’d be just about your worst nightmare, wouldn’t it?”

“A contender, certainly.” Stealing the Illyrian’s warp core was also up there.

“It’s not even the principle that bothers me as much,” said Trip.

“You and I are very different people.”

“Not exactly breakin’ news. What I mean is, I don’t know how much of the last year has been real and how much has been the bond screwin’ with me. That’s the worst part.” After a long pause he added, “Except Elizabeth. But it’s too soon to have that conversation sober.”

Malcolm had thought about bringing some liquor, but ultimately decided it wouldn’t have any positive impact on human-Vulcan relations. Now he wondered if that had been a mistake. “Truthfully, I still don’t know what to say. _I’m sorry_ seems woefully inadequate.”

“S’okay, Malcolm. There’s no magic sentence out there you’re missing that’ll make me feel better.”

He should have brought the liquor.

“But I think, eventually, I’ll be okay,” said Trip. “With T’Pol, Elizabeth,” his voice wavered on her name, “the last couple years in general. Gettin’ this bond broken is the first step.”

Malcolm didn’t do words of comfort particularly well. Never had. It wasn’t as though he’d enjoyed any great opportunity to learn, but he had a coping strategy which worked quite nicely for himself. “If you ever feel the need to work out some aggression, I have a few excellent punching bag routines I can show you.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

* * *

Someone on Vulcan decided it would be better if he and T’Pol didn’t go to a temple, on account of not wanting it to be known that a bond between a Vulcan and a human was possible. This probably should’ve offended Trip, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

A high-ranking mind healer therefore paid them a visit at T’Pol’s family estate, which she’d inherited after her mother’s death. Trip had liked T’Les and he was sorry she was gone.

To begin, Healer Sanek sat them down on the floor. Vulcans did love sitting on the floor. Something about requiring a person to use their core muscles. Malcolm had been banished to the guest room, not that he seemed sorry about it. So it was just Trip, T’Pol, and Healer Sanek.

It kinda sucked that in order to get T’Pol out of his head, Trip had to let another Vulcan muck around in there first.

“You must both focus on yourselves,” said Sanek. He had a very soothing voice, more than Trip would’ve expected, to be honest. “Center your attention on the essence of who you are as an individual.”

Trip wondered if that made more sense to Vulcans.

Sanek put a hand on each of them. “Commander, you may find it helpful to revisit memories of great personal significance.”

Right. He could do that. He started with his childhood, lingering through fun summers and the first science award he’d ever won, meandering on to early adventures in Starfleet and aboard _Enterprise._

Thinking of the ship made him think of T’Pol, which was probably not the goal. He tried to reroute his mind to others, like that time he and Malcolm almost froze to death but ended up alive and friends, or watching the game on Hinko which vaguely resembled water polo to Jon’s great delight, but his mind kept circling back to T’Pol.

Until, suddenly, it didn’t.

Oh, T’Pol was still part of his memories, but she didn’t dominate them. His mind was his own again.

“The bond has been broken,” announced Sanek.

That was a lot less painless than Trip had expected. He didn’t even have a headache. He _was_ starving, but that was to be expected when he followed explicit instructions to skip breakfast.

“Thank you,” he said.

Sanek nodded. “I have been asked to remind you, Commander, that the existence of mating bonds is not information we wish to be widely known.” He diplomatically left off the ‘least of all that it is possible with a human’ part, and Trip liked him for it.

“I understand.” Besides, it wasn’t exactly his proudest moment, so he didn’t want to go blabbing about the bond.

“Thank you, Healer,” said T’Pol. The weakness in her voice drew Trip’s attention.

She looked exhausted, like she’d drop at any moment. Evidently this bond-breaking business was harder on her end.

Well, it was her biology. Trip had just been along for the ride.

Sanek helped her up. “We will depart for the meditation sanctuary.”

“T’Pol?” said Trip.

She looked at him.

“Take care of yourself. We’re looking forward to havin’ you back with us on _Enterprise._ ”

She gave him a small nod. “I will see you in four weeks.”

Trip couldn’t wait to get his life back.

* * *

They had to stay one more night at T’Pol’s house, just he and Trip, who had been unusually taciturn since T’Pol and Healer Sanek left. Malcolm didn’t feel that he’d been particularly helpful, but then again, T’Pol had looked awful when she left. If that was normal after a bond breaking, no wonder the Vulcans suggested Trip have someone along to look after him.

Trip wandered out to watch the sunset. It was beautiful, Malcolm would grant, if you liked deserts, which he did not. The dry air made him feel as though he was being mummified alive. He would have preferred to stay inside with the humidifier he had the foresight to pack, but Trip hadn’t asked him along solely to take up space, so he went outside.

After a long moment of Malcolm wondering what to say, Trip spoke. “It’s not as hard to think about Elizabeth anymore.”

“You don’t sound happy about that.” Personally, he would have considered it progress toward healing.

“Does that mean I don’t care as much as T’Pol?”

“I highly doubt it,” he said, hoping it was true. But what did he know? Vulcans had turned to repressing their emotions because otherwise said emotions tore them apart. “You said the bond was magnifying your feelings. Some kind of grief feedback loop, perhaps.”

“It’s good to have her out of my head.” Trip sighed. “Sanek mentioned that emotional turmoil is common after a bond is broken. Maybe this is all still messin’ with me.”

Malcolm had his suspicions that the aftermath of the bond would be troublesome for some time.

“You’re probably right about the feedback loop, though.”

It made a certain amount of sense, and as far as Malcolm was concerned, constituted another convincing argument for the importance of keeping one’s mind firmly to one’s self.

“T’Pol said the bond helps Vulcan couples cope with grief. Well, those weren’t her exact words, but that was the gist of it. We’re too different, though. I guess it only works if you’re dealing with your emotions in similar ways, but T’Pol couldn’t express hers without losin’ her entire identity, any more than I could repress mine an’ stay me.”

“No,” said Malcolm, feeling entirely useless. “As much as people are capable of change, some simply isn’t possible.” For instance, he didn’t think offering solace would ever be a personal strength.

“Human an’ Vulcan are too different. Just like Elizabeth.”

Actually, Phlox thought that future advances is reproductive xenobiology would allow for a healthy Vulcan-human child, though Malcolm was hard pressed to come up with a reason why anyone would want to have a baby with a Vulcan. It wasn’t the salient point either way.

“It’s not that I wanted it to work with T’Pol,” continued Trip. “I sometimes thought I did, because of the bond, and now… now I’m just confused as hell.”

“Understandably so,” said Malcolm.

“Now what?”

That much, at least, Malcolm knew. “Now we eat.” He was under instructions from Sanek to ensure Trip took care of himself, and that meant a meal and as good a night’s sleep as circumstances would permit. “And tomorrow we go home.”

Trip nodded and stared out into the sunset. “When we pick T’Pol up, she’s doin’ the Rite of Remembrance for Elizabeth. Will you come? I don’t think I can handle bein’ the only human there, but maybe with you an’ the Cap’n, I’ll manage.”

“I’d be honored.”

“Hopefully by then I’ll have started to get my head on straight.”

“Be kind to yourself, Trip.”

Trip gave him a sad smile. “You know, you’re not nearly as bad at this as you think.”

Malcolm found himself wanting to believe that.

* * *

They weren’t lucky enough to get a Vulcan science vessel on the return trip. Instead they found themselves sleeping on cots in the cargo bay of a Boomer ship on the last leg of its life, crammed in between crates of duranium ore.

It was far less comfortable than the Vulcan ship in the physical sense, but it was completely, gloriously human.

To Malcolm’s astonishment, Trip slept for eighteen hours straight despite the noises of the cargo bay and woke up feeling better for it. No dreams of T’Pol’s weird white space, thank God.

He was never having sex with an alien again.

* * *

The long weekend with his sister stretched into the better part of a week and included a day jaunt to visit a cousin in Oxfordshire, not to speak of the night they both pulled at a bar. It was the best leave Malcolm had taken since he joined Starfleet. Even the afternoon with his parents was on the better end of tolerable. And if his father grumbled about the lack of promotion, Malcolm still felt grateful he hadn’t been kicked off _Enterprise_ altogether, as he’d probably deserved after the debacle with the Klingons and Harris.

Caught up on familial matters, flush with new reading material both in print and on padds, and in possession of some first-rate pineapple rum, he returned to the ship ready to handle whatever havoc the spacedock crews had inflicted on the armory. 

Two days later, as he was grudgingly admiring the hull plating upgrade, Trip returned to _Enterprise._

The engineer had clearly spent a large part of his leave outdoors, as he’d acquired quite a tan. More importantly, he didn’t look quite as haunted as he had when they’d parted. All of that home-cooked food and ebullient American emotionalism had obviously worked their magic.

“Hey Malcolm. Hull platin’ looks good, doesn’t it?”

“It’s promising. Ten percent stronger will be very useful.”

Trip nodded. “I’ll take it. How was your leave?”

“Quite enjoyable, thank you. And yours?”

“Good. I caught a catfish this big.” He held out his hands, almost a meter apart. If that was supposed to be impressive, it was lost on Malcolm. “Taught my nephew how to fix his computer. Went campin' with my folks.”

And underneath, the words he didn’t say: _I found a bit of peace. Not complete acceptance, not yet, but I’ve started down that path._

If he preferred to delve into the finer points of hull plating instead of discussing his heartache, that was fine by Malcolm.

They still had a galaxy to explore, after all.


End file.
